Trial and Glory (15 page)

“I thought you might be hungry.”

Kroke’s stomach turned at the mention of hunger. “More than I realized.” He shifted his legs, and made room for her next to the half wall he leaned against.

“Look, I’m sorry for lecturing you and Rygar about taking too many chances. I wasn’t trying to mother you or even second guess your decisions. You did good. I was just—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “And I appreciate it.”

She sat, split the loaf in half, and handed him a piece. They ate in silence, passing the skin of water between them when needed. They watched the men on duty congregate around the braziers, warming themselves from the chill in the air.

Yanasi nodded toward the knife Kroke held. “Suffered damage?”

“Nah. I haven’t had one break on me in a long time. Even the worst in my collection is better than what most could ever hope to carry.” He put the blade down. “What’s on your mind?”

She smiled.

“I just wanted to let you know I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. Something we talked about months ago. About getting out before it’s too late. About leaving all this behind and doing something else with my life.”

“Have you decided anything?”

“Yeah, I decided that you’re right.”

“Good.”

“You’re not upset with me?”

“No. I’m glad. Jonrell would be happy to hear that. Cassus too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We might have been like family to them, but neither of them exactly loved this way of life. Few do. Those two just wanted to be doing something with the people they cared for. They were alike in that way.” He paused. “But for some, that’s just not enough to keep going.”

Yanasi nodded. “Do you think that’s why Cassus left?”

“I’m sure it has something to do with his reason for leaving. The life of a soldier suited him least of anyone. He had too big a heart. That’s not a bad thing. You’re a lot like him in that way.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. It wasn’t an insult for sure.” He blew out a sigh. “I think Cassus needed to find himself as much as he needed to do some good by those Byzernians.”

“Do you think he ever did find himself?”

“I’d like to think so. If anyone deserved peace of mind, he did. We weren’t the closest of friends, but I always had a lot of respect for him. Just like I do for you.”

“Thanks.”

“So, I’m assuming that Rygar is leaving with you?”

Yanasi grinned. She lowered her voice to barely a whisper, even by her standards. “He asked me to marry him.”

Kroke blinked. “That’s great news. Have you told anyone else yet?”

“You’re the first. I don’t want to tell anyone else anything until it looks like we’ll make it out of this. Seems wrong to celebrate in the middle of all this death. It also seems wrong that I won’t be able to tell the good news to Jonrell, Cassus, or Hag. They basically raised me.” She paused. “It feels good to tell someone though, you know, in case I don’t make it.”

Kroke leaned forward. “Don’t worry about that. Thinking about your own death will only distract you. You’ll make it out alive. I promise you. You and Rygar both. Just focus on the next day ahead.”

We’ve lost too many good people because of this war. I won’t lose you or Rygar.

She smiled. “Will do.”

* * *

Tired and alone in his quarters, Krytien heaved his stomach’s contents into the chamber pot in the corner. Despite his body screaming at him to stop performing the teleportation spell, he refused to let up his practice.

Belching, a foul smell passed his lips, turning his stomach once more. He choked back the bile, staggering over to his desk. He reread Amcaro’s notes on the spell for what seemed like the hundredth time.

I don’t understand. I’m performing it just as it is specified, yet the nausea has barely lessened in comparison to my first attempt. And if I perform the spell too close to the last time, the sickness only increases.

It appeared from Amcaro’s notes that teleportation affected some mages more than others, with few ever fully getting over the queasiness that accompanied the process.

“Like any other form of sorcery, teleportation calls for patience and repetition. One does not become an expert at anything in a matter of days, weeks, or even months. Only those who dedicate themselves to years of study will find success in the arts.”

Krytien read the passage and shook his head. He had never been a patient man, and given the situation, he did not have years to wait until his mastery of the arts improved.

Not when Nareash can attack at any moment.

He had worked with Raker, Drake, and others on another possible mode of attacking the High Mage should he finally show himself. However, Krytien placed little faith in the strategy.

A High Mage should be able to figure out how to avoid those attacks. And when he does, everyone will look to me.

He leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. A thought struck him, something he had not considered before.

Could it be that easy?

He pushed himself to his feet and went to the door.

* * *

Wiqua’s laugh became infectious, and soon Kaz joined him. Joy had become a hard thing to come by. However, he took Krytien’s advice and sought the man he thought of as a surrogate father.

From what I remember of my father, Wiqua is the better man anyway.

Kaz had not meant to ignore Wiqua over the last few weeks, but after thinking on his conversation with Krytien, he realized that his talks with the old Byzernian had been mostly about matters of the army. The two had not shared their personal thoughts in some time.

When Hag was alive.

Despite the realization, he did not feel comfortable dumping all his worries on Wiqua. He saw how much it weighed on the old man to see so many wounded and dying.

And he’s done so much for me already to selfishly push my problems onto him.

The two spoke privately in a quiet hallway near the infirmary. They focused on the better times of the last couple of years. Quickly, their conversation drifted to Hag and the love they shared for the rough woman.

“Do you recall the look on that private’s face we picked up on the road to Cathyrium when he tried to bully her into giving him some salted pork from our supplies?” asked Kaz.

“How could I forget? I had to patch up the young man on the road because Jonrell would not allow the group to stop.” Wiqua chuckled. “The poor boy kept staring at his side, dumbfounded that Hag had actually stabbed him. He couldn’t believe that a woman half his size and four times his age could get the upper hand on him.”

“I think my favorite part of the whole thing was that Hag had stabbed him right where she knew it wouldn’t cause any permanent damage, but would still inflict a lot of pain.”

“She was a special woman,” said Wiqua, laughing.

“She was.” Kaz paused. “I wonder whatever happened to that private.”

Wiqua closed his eyes, laughter dying. “He died about a year ago if I remember correctly. Spear point through his neck.” He sighed, shoulders sagging. “But then again, I could be wrong. There has been so much death that it all runs together.”

Kaz placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Wiqua shrugged. “You have nothing to apologize for. As Jonrell would say, war is ugly. I’ll just be glad when it’s all over.”

“So will I.”

* * *

Krytien stood at the entrance of the infirmary, immediately wishing to leave. The smell of fresh blood and open wounds assaulted his already queasy stomach. Despite decades of witnessing the carnage of a battle’s aftermath, he had not grown numb to the suffering each soldier faced.

Injured lay on cots and wooden pallets side-by-side, the overflow spilling to piles of hay scattered on the floor against the back wall. Those treating the wounded walked among them with buckets of water, scooping out ladles for each to drink. Others changed bandages, while a small number of mages did their best to heal those they could.

Krytien spotted Wiqua by a man whose legs had been severed at the knee. He bent over the man with hands on leg and chest, lips moving. Nora stood at his side. Wiqua nearly tumbled to the ground when he finished. Krytien hurried over as Nora helped the Byzernian catch his balance.

“Are you alright?” Krytien asked as he reached them.

Wiqua nodded. “I’m fine.”

Nora shook her head. “He’s been at it for most of the day. He only stopped when Kaz came by earlier.”

“Why don’t you take a break?” asked Krytien.

“No.”

“You can’t heal them all,” whispered Krytien.

“I have to try.”

Krytien nodded. “At least stop for some food and drink. Then maybe close your eyes for a little while. You’re not good to anyone unconscious. I know I’m not as skilled as you are, but I can spare some time and help in your place.”

Wiqua let out a sigh. “Alright. Thank you.” He turned to Nora. “Can you show Krytien who needs the most help?”

She bowed, then called over another worker to help Wiqua back to his quarters. Afterward, she guided Krytien through the rest of the rounds, pointing out what needed attention on each patient. In many instances, the two worked together. Hours passed before they finished.

The two rested against a wall, away from prying eyes and ears.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done that much healing in such a short amount of time,” he said, eyelids heavy. “You did well. Wiqua would be pleased.”

She smiled. “As he would with you.” She changed subjects. “Lufflin told me that we lost several of our mages in the last battle. I want to help you with the next assault.”

“No, you’re doing wonders here.”

“But won’t every little bit help?”

“Not against High Mage Nareash.”

“You don’t think you can stop him?”

“He’s the one wearing the red robes.”

“So? You’ve told us many times that the color of someone’s robes means little. It’s what they can do, and I’ve seen you do such amazing things. Affecting an entire army’s will in the battle against Conroy, performing a spell that only Sacrynon himself had ever pulled off . . .”

“I have my moments, but nothing that can withstand continued pressure from Nareash.”

“So, you’re saying it’s hopeless?”

“No. Nothing is hopeless,” said Krytien, trying to convince himself as much as Nora. “I’ve been working on something with the engineers for when Nareash finally does show himself. I’m also working on a few things privately.” He paused. “I actually came here to talk to Wiqua about it. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it when I saw how weary he looked.”

“Is it something I can help with?”

Krytien eyed the young mage.
She has spent a great deal of time with him.
“Perhaps. Has Wiqua taught you any spells for nausea?”

“Nausea? Like an upset stomach?”

“Well, I’m looking for something that would combat more than just an upset stomach. Vomiting, dizziness, feelings of disorientation . . .”

“Hmm. I can help you with that. The spell isn’t too difficult either. As long as you start correctly, the rest falls into place.”

Bells sounded. It would be dawn in a few hours.

There just never seems to be enough time.

“I know it’s late, but can you teach me the spell? It’s important that I learn it right away.”

“Sure, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble picking it up.” Nora chuckled. “I can’t believe I get to teach you something.”

“Any mage worth his salt never stops learning.”

* * *

“No. Put your hand right there,” said Drake, nodding.

“I thought you told me to keep an eye on the other beam,” replied Janik.

“I did. I need you to do both.”

“This is why I’m not an engineer,” the mage muttered.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done.”

“Well hurry. I still have to work that spell you wanted.”

Drake ignored the mage’s tone. Everyone was pulling extra shifts and doing double-duty in preparation for the inevitable attack. He put all his weight behind the rope, knuckles whitening and sweat falling into his eyes as he tied the knot.

“Alright, I’m done.”

Janik slowly moved his hands away. “Thank the One Above.” He wiped his brow.

“How much time do you need to get it ready?”

“Maybe an hour.”

“Alright. I’ll see that no one bothers you.”

Janik drank from a waterskin, dropped to his knees, bowed his head, and got to work. Drake sectioned off the ballista with rope so no one could get through without passing him first. Drake saw Lufflin in a similar position across the wall. Senald and Raker stood guard at their equipment.

Drake shifted his stance and sighed.

And the boredom begins. I should have brought a book.

“Drake!”

He turned as Rygar approached, waving a hand.

“Need some company?” asked the scout.

“You read my mind. How’d you know?”

“I was with Raker a little earlier. He told me that you’d be pretty bored about now.” He gestured to Janik.

Drake slid over. “I’m not about to turn down company. How have you been?”

Rygar shrugged. “No need to scout anymore, so I’ve more or less joined Yanasi’s company since my eyesight gives me a bit of an advantage with a bow.”

“Plus it gives you a chance to watch her back.”

“Yeah, that too.” He lowered his voice. “I’d kind of like to keep her around, with us betrothed and all.”

Drake blinked. “What!”

Rygar raised a finger to his mouth. “Quiet. We aren’t ready to tell everyone yet.”

“Then why tell me?”

“Why not? We’re friends, and I know I can trust you. And Yanasi couldn’t keep from telling Kroke. I figured if she told someone, I could do the same.”

“Well, you could have given me some kind of warning.”

“I didn’t think it would be that big a shock. She and I have been together awhile.”

“I guess I just imagined things staying as they were.”

Rygar raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I mean we are mercenaries,” said Drake, trying to defend his point of view.